Taken: By Her Billionaire Benefactor (Billionaire Benefactor 3) Read online

  Her nipples were still stiff, and a strange, almost sexual tension was running through her body now, which was itself as tight as the strings on a violin. She felt the air brush her skin, the faint tingle as the cool breeze danced across her innermost parts.

  She followed him, mute, down the corridor, a towel tied around her head and another draped across her shoulders to keep her warm in the surprising chill of the summer air. But on her bottom half, there was nothing, as ordered.

  When she entered her own bedroom, she was shocked at how tidy it suddenly appeared. Whatever else this man was, he was clearly a domestic God!

  The other major change though, was that he had laid out several soft, thick towels on her bed, and on her bedside table – now cleared of all the usual trinkets that adorned it – was a curious selection of implements. There was what looked like a bowl, steaming with hot water. There was a bar of soap, and on a little stand rested a small, soft – looking brush and what looked like an old men's Razor – the kind you'd have found 100 years ago, with one long straight blade.

  The hair on Anna's neck was standing up now, the unusualness of the situation achingly apparent.

  "Lie on the bed please, Anna", James said softly, though with the clear intent that his words were followed to the letter.

  Without even a hint of protest, Anna laid down as though in a daze. He had something of her own master in him, she thought, the way she compelled obedience without even seeming to try.

  Her legs were tight shut though, and her hands rested protectively on her lightly haired mound, as if to deny entry.

  She lay back, eyes tightly shut to block out the strangeness of the situation she was in.

  "Anna, legs apart".

  Shocked by the openness of his command, she obeyed unquestioningly, exposing her lips once more to the assault of the cool air. It tingled gently and as she pulled her hands away, they twitched, almost as though she had a hidden desire to begin probing her wet folds of her own volition.

  Anna spread her legs, but astonished at her brazenness pulled the towel swaddling her hair down over her eyes, as if to hide the truth of the situation. It was as though pulling the material across her face, hiding her own body from her sight meant that it was an act happening to someone else.

  It also had the slightly unintended consequence of heightening every sensation.

  Anna could not see anything but darkness and the odd fibre of the soft white towel exposed by the muted lighting in the room. But the sounds of preparation coming from between her legs and the other end of the bed painted a picture all of their own.

  Anna could hear tinkling, the sound of water rippling in a metallic bowl echoed and magnified a thousand times by the giveaway chink of some metallic object coming into contact with it.

  She dared to peak, and lifted the material ever so slightly, as though she were a little girl sneaking a look at her parents wrapping the Christmas presents under the tree; even though she had no need to hide. She saw James, this driver who was far more than that, with the brush in his hand, white rivulets of soapy foam tripping down his hands as he plied the brush into the bar of soap cradled in his other large palm.

  Their eyes met, as he noticed her looking.

  "It's a badger hair brush," James said, answering the unspoken question. "It's from England, all the best ones are. You soak the bristles in hot water and they absorb it, it makes for the softest, most luxurious foam".

  Foam – what foam? Oh God, he really was about to shave her wasn't he!

  Not wanting to reply, Anna fled back under the towel, what could she possibly say that wouldn't be horrendously embarrassing?

  She heard the sound of James towelling his hands dry, then what sounded like him folding the hand towel neatly and placing it to one side.

  She jumped in surprise as he placed one of his large, but surprisingly gentle palms on her inner thigh, and it sent a tingle through her entire body, thrilling and shocking her in equal measure.

  "Don't worry, Anna. I'm a very careful man".

  She didn't doubt it. She was hardly worried that he was about to cut her, it was the sheer unusualness of the situation that was causing her to act like this startled little girl.

  "It's… It's fine".

  This time it was James' time not to bother replying, instead he made his hands busy and Anna painted herself a picture of what he was doing as he tenderly lifted the badger hair brush, which was loaded with white shaving foam, and gently began to paint her crotch white.

  Anna controlled herself this time, but the sensation was glorious. She had never had someone do this before, she had never been the type of girl to go down to the salon and have a Brazilian wax, or even – like this – have it shaved. And if this was anything to go by, she thought, there was no way she would ever be able to do it! It was lucky, so lucky, she thought that the wetness of the shaving cream would be hiding the glistening wetness of her vagina, because otherwise it would be clear to any onlooker – luckily it was only James here – that she was turned on as hell.

  She couldn't know, but this was her master's plan all along.

  James painted in short, inch long strokes that tickled and teased in equal measure. It felt like he was drawing a feather in little circles around her crotch, every little motion causing Anna to twitch in pleasure, biting down on her lip to avoid giving away just how excited she was.

  "Just enjoy it Anna". The voice came out of nowhere, startling her as she realised just how deeply she had been focusing on this experience. She had almost forgotten where she was. James was some kind of artist, the way just by the most ordinary of actions he could turn her on like this.

  She felt as though the skin of her thighs must feel a million degrees, that there was no possible way that James couldn't feel the heat leaking from her body through the hand that he was still leaving on her inner thigh, resting uncomfortably close to her most private parts.

  If he was looking up, there was no way he could miss how stiff her nipples were, standing at attention in the cool air of her room. Anna squirmed as the brush went to work once more between her legs, presumably filling in some spot that had been missed – although Anna thought James was just doing this for fun now.

  She tried pressing her legs together to squeeze any drop of pleasure that she could out of the situation, but was stopped in her tracks by the gentle but firm power of James' hand.

  "No, Anna. I'm ready now".

  His hand left her inner thigh, and Anna almost ached for its return. She heard the clink of metal on metal as he returned the brush, but pleasurable brush, onto the stand that she had seen when she walked into the room. She heard another clink of metal – she presumed that he must have taken the razor of that same stand.

  Every sensation, every minor note of pleasure was being magnified a hundred times by the fact that she could see none of what was going on. It was like being blindfolded, having to imagine everything and having no heads up when she was about to be touched. Anna loved it.

  She knew she'd be hurt if she continued squirming, but she did it anyway. How could she not when this man's glorious, soft, but firm hands were roving across the lower part of her body – hands which though she knew would never hurt her, she knew equally that in a second he had the power to snap her in half.

  "Anna, stop! You are his prize, you must know that. And if I were to do anything to harm you in any way, even touch you with this razor in the wrong way, you must know that it wouldn't be good for me".

  Suitably chastened, Anna went still at once. What kind of Master did she have? What kind of man was he that he could instil such respect, and such fear, in a man who was clearly powerful himself. Even if that power was confined to his gorgeous, strong, muscled body.

  "I'm sorry," Anna offered up, truly apologetically. "I didn't know".

  She moved the towel off her head once more, this time entirely and let it fall to the side. She wanted to convey her apology properly, and knew that she wouldn't be able to do i
t without making eye contact.

  James looked mollified. "The blade is from Japan," he said. "It's out of his personal collection, who knows how much it costs. I've heard that it's made in the same way they used to make swords".

  Perhaps responding to the quizzical, and not entirely convinced look on Anna's face, James quickly continued. But his mind was clearly focused on

  "You wouldn't look so surprised if you knew a little more about your Master".

  "So tell me, why don't you?"

  "It's not my place. I'm strictly here to get you ready, and drive you to his pla…” – James stopped dead, mouth shut immediately, with a kind of "oh, shit" expression on his suddenly bright red face.

  It was the kind of look little kids get when they know they've said too much, accidentally blurted out a secret. Anna found it hilarious, although she did her best to hide it from her face. After all, this man did have an extremely sharp Japanese razor blade resting 6 inches away from her clitoris…

  And, well – there was really only one word that he could have meant by his truncated slip of the tongue – but surely her Master couldn't be rich enough to have his own plane?

  She'd been to his house, and it was definitely finished beautifully, in a clearly expensive, if rather quirky part of town. But when she thought of the superrich, she thought of skyscrapers and out-of-town mansions – not buildings like the one she been in just a couple of days before.

  This man – this Master – was a study in contradiction. Anna marvelled that she could know him a hundred years and probably still never completely unravel his secrets. But, she thought, she might as well lie back – literally – and go along with it.

  James bowed his head now, concentrating on the task at hand – clearly in an attempt to distract himself from his error. The look of concentration on his face was endearing, and Anna had a sudden burning desire to grab his head and physically force it towards her crotch.

  It passed, but Anna hardly recognised this new person she was quickly becoming, so easily swayed by her most base desires. She didn't recognise this person, but she certainly liked who she was becoming.

  James made his first pass with the blade, holding the razor at a 45° angle to her pale white skin, and pulling it gently and firmly towards his face, screwed up with concentration.

  The air, which suddenly had access to skin that was newly denuded of hair for the first time – well – probably since Anna first began growing it, felt like sweet agony as it licked the short avenue of smooth flesh. James moved in short strokes, clearing a path from the edge of the skin that he had so lovingly prepared, towards her centre.

  He moved quickly, carefully and Anna felt no more fear that she might be cut than she might if she were using cutlery – sharp as the blade might be, she felt completely safe in his hands.

  Anna wasn't squirming, but only through a monumental force of effort that she managed to keep herself still. It didn't take long before she was closing her eyes once more to deny herself the visual proof of James' actions, such was her need to concentrate solely on keeping her breathing steady and the orgasm that was beginning to build between her thighs from overwhelming her.

  The area around her pink opening was now completely hairless, that true white of skin that has barely ever seen light before.

  Now finished, though Anna had no idea – still feeling phantom strokes of the sharp razor, such was her excitement – James lifted the metal bowl filled with water, now merely pleasantly warm, and poured it directly onto Anna's crotch.

  Anna jerked upwards in surprise, as the shock of pleasure jolted through her body – almost enough to send her over the edge. She had enough presence of mind to squeeze her thighs together in the hope that this would be enough to bring her budding orgasm to conclusion.

  James looked at her and smiled.

  "I don't think he'd be very pleased if you were to come before he sees you…"

  Anna knew he was right, but a part of her wanted to ignore the rational side of her mind and fully embrace the carnal desires that were flooding her body, driven by the burning heat between her legs.

  James picked up the hand towel that he had – indeed – neatly folded earlier on and unravelled it, bringing it to Anna's crotch and towelling her dry roughly. The pressure of the rough fabric on her vagina was exquisite agony, and she bucked her hips onto it, knowing it was wrong, knowing that she should wait for whatever her Master had planned for that day, but at the same time willing to completely ignore the part of her mind that was telling her to wait.

  James brought the cloth down firmly once, twice, thrice in different directions, but his mind was clearly focused on drying her, rather than bringing her growing orgasm to its natural end.

  Understanding at last the she was not to be satisfied, at least not yet, Anna shot him a baleful, reproachful look, her lips set in a pout.

  "Don't look at me like that – you know it's right."

  She knew it was, of course she did, but there was no reasoning with the female orgasm, was there? Right now, if James wasn't going to finish her off, then all Anna wanted to do was to get some privacy so that she could finish the job herself.

  The way she was feeling right now, it wouldn't take long at all.

  "You're not touch yourself before you see the Master tonight, do you understand," James said to her, averting his gaze and with an entirely embarrassed look on his face.

  "I wouldn't…" Anna replied, but weakly, and without much conviction.

  "Listen to me Anna, this man you're involved with can either be the best that you have ever come across, or he can be the worst you've ever imagined. It's up to you which of the two you get. If I were you, I wouldn't".

  With that – unsettling, but exciting warning – James stood up and began to leave the room. He turned his head as he reached the doorway and said "there's a dress hanging on your dresser, it's your size. We've had it made for you. Put it on, and meet me downstairs".

  Anna did as she was bid.

  ***

  Given the intimacy that pair of them had shared – this stranger shaving her crotch just a few moments before – they returned to normality surprisingly quickly.

  James was once again the driver, servile, Anna once more the high status passenger.

  The dress was gorgeous, stunning – in fact no words could really describe it fairly. The material was some kind of extravagantly expensive silk, as Anna slipped it on it shimmered down her body, almost weightless, and wearing it was like having thousands hands stroking her skin – feather light – wherever it met her flesh.

  It was a dark red, almost blood, and printed all over it were tiny swallows – extraordinarily detailed, the workmanship clear. Anna had never been more careful walking through corridors and closing doors than when she first put on – she couldn't even fathom how expensive repairing a tear caused by some silly little accident she might have would be.

  James held the door open for her wordlessly, and she stepped in to the limousine. The leather seats were luxuriously soft, providing just the right support so that Anna sank into them, but they didn't envelop her.

  The door closed behind her, then click as the driver's side door opened, then closed. The connecting window hummed as her driver – since that was what he was really – depressed the button which controlled it.

  Turning his head to face her, hands already on the wheel, he said "pour yourself a drink, anything. Window up or down?"

  It took Anna a little while to process what he was saying. Not only had she never been in a car with dividing window before, she had certainly never been in one that had its own bar!

  "Um… Up – I think". She almost didn't want to say it, in fact there was a part of her that would rather speak to him, rather pick his brains about what she might expect to experience when they got there – wherever there was.

  But there was a rather larger part of her that had decided to delight in her new-found power over this man – even if that power was simply refle
cted from her Master…

  James didn't reply, he knew exactly what was expected of him and simply depressed the button once again to push the window upwards.

  Anna sank back, and began to play with the shimmering material covering her legs.

  She inspected the interior of the car’s cabin – noticing in particular the small but no doubt very well stocked bar. There were no labels in sight – didn't need to be. Anna knew by now to expect the very best from her Master – and whatever was in the crystal decanters was no doubt the very best that could be procured anywhere in the world.

  Her hands were slightly trembling, whether as a consequence of the orgasm that she had been so close to, but which had been in the end denied her, or whether as a result of the fact that she was delving further into the unknown sexual fantasies of her Master, she didn't know.